


and then relief

by selflessbellamy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Co-leaders with Benefits, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Resolved Sexual Tension, Season/Series 01, Sex Pollen, This prompt got out of control (sue me)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 08:03:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selflessbellamy/pseuds/selflessbellamy
Summary: The relaxation turns out to be brief, however, because a familiar voice pulls her back to reality, “Long day, Princess?”Bellamy. Ugh.Since their daytrip, he has become more tolerable, but she doesn’t want to give him much attention right now, so she cracks one eye open to glare at him. “I’m trying to relax.” When she really looks at him, though, her mouth goes dry.***Or the one in which Bellamy gives Clarke a flower that looks like lavender; only, it isn't...





	and then relief

**Author's Note:**

> this was a prompt on tumblr that got a little out of hand, because i was just very excited to have the opportunity to write a sex pollen fic. 
> 
> the title is from the song 'heartbeats' by josé gonzáléz. 
> 
> i hope you like it :)

Another day on the ground is another day of having to break up petty fights between teenagers over bits of shade. To be fair to these kids, though, the ruthless sun has been beating down on the camp for almost a week straight now, which makes it even harder to work outside. Clarke has lost count of how many burns she’s treated in the past couple days, using an ointment of mint and dandelion root (Bellamy thinks its effects are almost entirely due to _placebo_ , and she’s not sure how she can argue against that).

Her bones are aching from standing all day, so she decides to retreat to the only place on Earth she’s ever felt at peace: The lake. Now, she tries not to think too much about the unknown creature that attacked Octavia on their first day here, but that’s the only reason why she hasn’t already stripped down and stepped into the cool water. 

 _Damn._ She needs that right now, but her brain tells her _no._

But she can still enjoy the bit of shade that the trees provide. Leaning back against a trunk, she lets her eyelids flutter shut. The relaxation turns out to be brief, however, because a familiar voice pulls her back to reality, “Long day, Princess?” 

 _Bellamy._ Ugh.

Since their daytrip, he has become more tolerable, but she doesn’t want to give him much attention right now, so she cracks one eye open to glare at him. “I’m _trying_ to relax.” When she _really_ looks at him, though, her mouth goes dry. 

He’s standing in front of her, his hair damp from sweat and his blue t-shirt clinging to his toned forearms. The grin that he’s sporting is as radiant as the sun. “Then relax. I’m not stopping you. I’m only here to get water.”

With that, he pulls the t-shirt off, not bothering to warn her first. Clarke adverts her eyes, fixating them on her knees. She hears him let out a slight chuckle, and when she can no longer feel him looking she sneaks a peek, knowing that it’s the last thing she should do. 

 _Fuck. He might be an asshole half the time, but how is he real?_ The man is all muscle and golden, freckled skin. As he bends down, she sees his back flex, and her breath briefly catches in her throat. Seemingly unaware that she’s staring, Bellamy dips a large tub into the fresh water of the lake to collect it and takes a cup from his backpack to fill it.

Of course, Clarke assumes that it’s for himself, so she’s left mostly speechless when he brings it to her. “Here. You look like you need it.”

Her heart swells, and she manages a grateful smile. “Thank you, Bellamy.” She takes the first sip, relishing the sensation of the cool water slipping down her throat while he goes to fill another cup for himself. Once he’s done that, he sits down next to her, and she instantly forgets her desire to be alone. Might that have anything to do with the fact that he’s still shirtless? Possibly, but she doesn’t want him to know that. The smug bastard would enjoy it way too much. 

They sit in comfortable silence for a minute, drinking their much-needed water. As soon as she’s hydrated, Clarke feels more energized. Next to her, Bellamy appears to be smirking at nothing, and she arches an eyebrow. “What?”

He turns to look at her, sparks brightening his dark gaze. “I found some new berries while doing woodwork today. They look delicious.” After saying this, he pulls a small tin out of his bag and opens the lid to reveal a layer of red berries, roughly the same size as a fingernail.

Despite her better judgment, the first thought that hits her is: _They do look delicious, like the really juicy and sweet kind._ Biting her lower lip to resist the temptation of grabbing one right away, Clarke says, “I thought we’d learnt something from the incident with the nuts.” 

“Have you ever heard about hallucinogenic berries?”

“Have you ever heard about hallucinogenic _nuts_?”

Still smirking, Bellamy offers a tiny shrug. “Touché.” For a moment, Clarke thinks that this will be the end of it, but then he adds, “I have something else, too,” and she nearly rolls her eyes as he digs into his bag yet again. This time, however, it’s a lilac _flower._ He grins as he gives it to her. “Looks a bit like lavender, right? I thought it might be medicinal. It’s not my area of expertise, but…”

“No, I think you’re right.”

She doesn’t even care if this boosts his ego. Because their Ark-issued medicine supply is running low, she’s been quite desperate to find new herbs and flowers to use as substitutes. It’s a bit annoying that they didn’t learn more about this in Earth Skills class.

But yeah, this _could_ be medicinal. “I’ll have to test it out first. I’ll let you know. Good work, Bellamy.” 

Grinning, he runs his hand through the back of his hair. “Well, I try… I’ve got Fox and Sterling working on the boar for tonight.”

Clarke’s mouth waters at the mere thought of a good meal. “We’re having _boar_?”

Her obvious excitement makes Bellamy chuckle. “Yeah, with mashed cranberries.” Then he winks at her, standing up to brush off his pants, and she has to prevent herself from staring yet again. _Great._ If she didn’t already know how much she needs to get laid. Feeling this kind of attraction to her co-leader is the last thing she needs.

 

* * *

 

 

After the _amazing_ and filling dinner, Clarke decides to go back to the medical bay to test out the flower that Bellamy found. The first thing she does is crush it with the blade of a dull knife; its scent is sweet and enticing, a little bit like that of a red rose, so it’s definitely _not_ lavender, although it resembles one.

There isn’t much juice in the stem and leaves, but she still collects it in a small container. Meanwhile, the scent seems to grow heavier, almost sticking to the atmosphere; it surrounds her, and a strange tickling sensation builds underneath her skin. 

_Oh no. Is she allergic to this?_

Of course, that’s her first thought, which makes to freak her out a little. Still, she soon realizes that the sensation isn’t in any way unpleasant; in fact it seems to breed warmth within her body, and then she’s brought to think: _Shit. Bellamy was right._ Maybe it can ease abdominal pains or headaches? Or be used as a form of anesthetic? At one second, her head is flooding with exciting ideas, and at the next her brain has settled one a single, overpowering thing.

 _Bellamy._  

The memory of him pulling off his t-shirt replays itself over and over in her mind. Biting her lower lip, she struggles to shake herself out of it and places the crushed petals on a small tray. Then she rushes out into the night towards his tent, because she wants his two cents before she even thinks about putting this plant to use on their people. 

Before pushing aside the tent flap, Clarke takes a moment to listen. _Silence._ No moaning or heavy breathing. _Thank God._

His face is illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp by his makeshift bed as he look at the map that the Ark left them. “Hey, Princess,” he greets her, his eyes settling on her. “Wow, that’s a strong scent. Is it the flower I gave you?”

“Yes, it is. Come look.”

Bellamy stands up as she places the small tray on the table. In the small space, he’s close enough that she can feel his hot breath grazing the back of her neck, which makes it surprisingly hard to focus, but she shakes herself out of the fluster to say, “I think… I think it might have some kind of anesthetic effect, because…Well, the smell, it’s—“

“Intense,” he mutters, his voice suddenly dark and gravelly. At the next moment, she feels his hand brush her hip, and she has to dig her teeth into her bottom lip to muffle a needy whimper; the tickling sensation underneath her skin has been empowered, by what she doesn’t know. “Do you feel… a little strange, too?”

At his question, Clarke turns around to find only an inch of space between their bodies; she can sense the heat radiating off his body, and her hand is soon hovering next to his bicep. Without thinking, she touches it, causing him to swallow. She _knows_ that she needs to pull back, get the hell out of here before she does something stupid, but then _his_ hands find their way to her back. 

_Holy shit. They’re so big._

“We shouldn’t,” she breathes when he leans in, narrowing the space between their faces. “I _know_ we shouldn’t, but—” 

“You never shut up, do you, Princess?”

For some reason, she laughs at that, pressing herself against him, which causes him to release a strangled groan. Though he tumbles back a step, Bellamy retaliates by wrapping his fingertips in her tangled hair and pulling a little at it in teasing. “You know, it’s funny,” she says, her lips brushing against his as she speaks, drawing out the words just enough to annoy him. “I’ve always thought _you_ were the one who never stopped running your mouth.” 

That apparently does it. Without warning, Bellamy crashes his lips onto hers, wasting no time on flair. When he bites at her lower lip, she whimpers, clutching at the back of his shirt as she responds by deepening the kiss; it’s rough, messy and _invigorating_. He tastes vaguely of cranberries, and she wants so much _more._  

Desire licks up her skin like flames, enticing yet dangerous.

Drawing back to catch her breath, Clarke meets his dark gaze for a moment; his pupils are blown so wide that his irises are almost all black. Unafraid, she grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head, throwing it carelessly on the ground. Before she can do anything else, like unbuckle his belt, Bellamy’s lips are on her throat, sucking hot kisses along the column of it. 

“ _Oh…_ ”

She pulls at his hair, and he growls against her sensitive skin, sending vibrations through her body.

Then he surprises her by lifting her off the ground and carrying her to the table. Here, the scent of the flower is so strong it almost overpowers every other sensation, but the feeling of his mouth on hers does things to her that the plant can’t.

Bellamy peels off her shirt in one quick motion, and he stops kissing her for a minute to look at her flushed chest. 

“What are you waiting for?” she says, posing a challenge that he can’t resist. Instead of simply removing her quickly, he moves the tight straps down her arms and presses his lips to her shoulders in a way that is so sweet it almost takes her aback. Then he unclasps it, and she hears him suck in a quick breath before he touches the globes of her breasts.

“ _God,_ what’s gotten into me?” he groans, worrying his bottom lip as he lets his thumbs brush over her sensitive, hardened nipples. “I can’t be doing this. I—”

Wincing, he steps back until his back hits the side of the tent. Clarke frowns at him. “Really? You’re chickening out now? I thought you were supposed to be _daring,_ Bellamy.” 

Although he glares at her for that, she also sees him swallow. Most importantly, his eyes still dart to her breasts every three seconds. In the end, this is what brings her to hop off the table and close in on him again. He doesn’t move away. As he stares at her, clearly still fighting himself internally, Clarke trails her hand down the hard lines of his abs.

“ _Clarke…_ ” 

Like she’d done before, she presses herself against him, making sure that he can feel her breasts against his chest, and a curse flies out of his mouth, “Fuck—“ Then he _moans._ The sound is unexpected yet empowering, so she kisses him again, a little softer than before just for the sake of finesse. 

As her fingertips bury themselves in the chaotic curls of his hair, Bellamy sucks at her bottom lip and starts to _grind_ against her; his erection rubs against her center, causing her to mewl. Through all the desire, she wonders how the hell she didn’t notice how hard he was.

“You need me? Oh, you poor thing,” she teases, knowing full well that she’s being hypocritical considering how soaked her underwear is right now. Still, she’ll enjoy the dominance while it lasts. 

Determined to provide him with some relief, Clarke makes a quick work of his belt and pants, dragging them down his legs. She takes a moment to stare — without a trace of shame — at his hard cock. Even though there’s still a tiny voice at the back of her mind screaming: ‘ _he’s your co-leader, off limits!’_ it’s easily overthrown by the new thought that enters her brain: _How does he taste?_

More wetness rushes from her core at the mere image of sucking him off. Right now, he’s peering at her through his eyelashes, head thrown back a little. “Can I touch you?” she asks, and he nods almost frantically, mouthing ‘ _yes’_. 

Clarke doesn’t want to wait any longer, so she digs her hand under the waistband of his boxers and grabs his length without hesitation. Then she watches his full lips part a little in pleasure, making desire flicker in her lower abdomen. She can feel that he’s _big,_ maybe even intimidatingly so; she’ll have to see to be sure. 

“Please, just… do something,” he manages. “I— _Clarke._ ” 

Her name stumbles out of her mouth when she — in the matter of a couple seconds — pulls his boxers down, drops to her knees and closes her mouth around the head of him. Refusing to think about the challenge that his size poses, Clarke inhales through her nose and takes as much of him as possible.

 _He tastes like earth._ But in a good way…

Bellamy releases an unfamiliar sound that falls somewhere between a hiss and a moan. While she works at him slowly, she feels his fingertips tangle in her hair again, but he doesn’t pull this time. No, he _caresses_ her scalp a bit. 

“Alright,” he breathes after a couple minutes, his voice trembling slightly under the weight of desire. Despite this, he pushes at her shoulders, causing her to take her mouth off him. When she pouts, he offers her a tiny smirk. 

“Did I do it wrong?” 

“No,” he says. “Take off your pants.” 

Even though she still doesn’t understand why he didn’t let her bring him to the edge, she follows his demand. Once she’s standing in front of him, almost completely exposed, his smirk grows. “You’re gorgeous,” he tells her, and she knows the words shouldn’t have any effect on her; after all, he probably says that to all the girls he fucks. 

Still, it makes her heart feel… _warm._

Bellamy hooks his thumbs in her underwear and pulls at down her legs nearly as fast as she removed his boxers. It takes her a moment to realize that they’re both naked now, but when she does her jaw slacks of its own accord. His dark eyes crinkling at the corners, Bellamy cups her cheek, presses a lingering kiss to her lips.

“So, how do you want _me_?” 

To her utter relief, his question sparks her curiosity and eradicates the bit of nervousness that had crept into her body. Mirroring his confident smirk, Clarke reaches in between them to give his length a leisured stroke. “I want to see how much of this I can take. Inside me.” 

“All of it. No doubt… Come here.”

Vaguely, Clarke registers that the scent of the flower has conquered the whole tent as he lies down on his back and pulls her with him. “I want to be on top,” she says, pressing her hands to his sternum. His answering grin is bright as the stars.

“’Course you do. Just go slow at first, alright?”

She quickly realizes that it was wise to take his advice; as she sinks down on him, her walls are stretched like never before, and she can’t help but whimper at the unfamiliar pressure. After a minute of watching her struggling, Bellamy has apparently had enough, since he flips them around and pulls out of her so abruptly that she damn near _sobs._

“Hey, hey— I’m just gonna make it a little easier for you, huh?” Still, he doesn’t move until she’s locked her eyes onto his and nodded. Settling in between her legs, Bellamy flattens his tongue against her. 

“ _God, Bellamy—_ “

“You’re okay.” He places his warm hand above hers before he continues going down on her, licking into her leisurely and sucking at her clit until she’s breathless, her sounds reduced to moans and whimpers. Still, she tries so hard to keep them as quiet as possible, because waking up the whole camp would be a fucking _nightmare._

But she understands now that the sounds those other girls made weren’t exaggerated.

Before she’s even fully registered that she was getting there, she’s coming hard, gasping his name and shuddering beneath him. He crawls up her body to hold her through the aftershocks, and once they’ve passed, leaving her feeling boneless, he slips into her. 

“How does this feel?” 

 _Oh wow._ Bracing herself against his broad shoulders, she digs her heels into his lower back to set him into motion. His thrusts are deep, though not nearly as hard as she expected them to be, which might be a good thing because she doesn’t know if she can handle being fucked right now. 

Suddenly, Bellamy interlaces their fingers, places a soft kiss to her jawline. Despite herself, Clarke hums at the sensation, and he does it again. The rest of it is a blur; all she knows is that his thrusts make her breath hitch with their passion, and when he finally lets himself go she trails her hand down his sweaty back, waiting for him to leave her. But he doesn’t do so until he can no longer stay inside her.

The atmosphere inside his tent is blazing and thick as they lie in silence, staring at the fake ceiling. Although she can sense him looking at her, Clarke chest is tight with nervousness, so she doesn’t know how to meet his gaze. Sure, the sex was _amazing,_ but the aftermath? How do you cope with that? Now, the scent of the mysterious flower has faded a bit, and the tickling sensation has left her skin. 

“Clarke, I’m really sorry if…” he trails off. Shaking her head, Clarke finally gathers the necessary courage to face him. With a reassuring smile, she brushes her fingertip along his cheekbone. 

“I think it was the flower,” she tells him, inching closer. Even in the dim light of the tent, she sees him swallow, so she continues, “But I don’t regret it.” Bellamy lets out a breath of relief as his strong arms come around her to pull her against his chest. For a minute, she forgets that this is a man she thinks of as an asshole most of the time and snuggles against him for some warmth and comfort.

 _It’s really nice, weirdly._

“I don’t regret it either.”

Smiling at her, his entire face is softer than she’s ever seen it. Then he cups her cheek, presses a chaste kiss to her forehead. And she can’t help but ask, “Do you cuddle with all the girls you invite in here?”

Bellamy blinks at her in surprise, his brow furrowing. “No? Most of the time they don’t want to hang around. But you haven’t left yet, so I assume that you need to wind down.”

“Alright. You’ve got me,” is what she replies, feeling heat creep into her cheeks. Hopefully he won’t notice because of the darkness. Without permission her eyes dart to his full lips, and she hates that she now knows how amazing they feel on hers, because the last thing she needs is having to battle the desire to _kiss_ her co-leader while they’re discussing hunting trips and task distribution. 

But Bellamy seems to read her mind. She has no idea how he does that.

“You want a kiss?”

When she tries to huff, it emerges as a soft whimper, and he chuckles before capturing her lips with his in a sweet kiss. He teases her lower lip by sucking it between his teeth, grinning as she _giggles_ mindlessly. “Well, wow. That sound is… I never thought I’d hear that.”

Clarke glares at him, though it’s without heat. Unbothered by this, Bellamy presses his forehead to hers. “It’s adorable. No, I mean it.” He runs his fingertips through her hair, combing out the tangles one by one as gently as possible. “It’s also a nice contrast to how you just took my cock into your mouth without hesitation.” 

“I still owe you a full blowjob,” Clarke says then, the words all but flying out of her mouth. 

While she had expected the smugness to roll off him after hearing this, he presses his calloused thumb to her lower lip and tells her, “You don’t owe me anything, okay?” When she arches her eyebrows, he adds, “…But it would be nice, especially after a long day of work.” 

 _That’s noted._  

_God, why did she note that?_

* * *

 

 

There’s no way that Bellamy’s tendency to overwork could’ve escaped her notice. Late at night when she leaves the medical bay, she often spots him sitting by the dying fire with a deep chasm in his brow that reveals his worry. Perhaps more than anyone else in this camp, she understands what that’s like; being unable to sleep, tossing and turning as you’re haunted by all the lives you couldn’t save. 

These are their people. _Their responsibility._

At least they don’t have to do it alone. And as much as he can drive her up the wall sometimes, she’s grateful to have him there to shoulder half of the burden. The ground isn’t the dream that she imagined it would be; it’s nightmare filled with horror and death lurking around every corner. If she had to do this by herself, she would’ve crumbled under the pressure a long time ago.

The flower that Bellamy gave has long lost most of its scent, but she still keeps it save in the cabinet, afraid that some of the kids might get to it. Of course, if its effect is purely heightened arousal then perhaps there aren’t many _dangers_ with it, but — as Bellamy pointed out to her — the camp will be much more productive if the teenagers aren’t having sex with each other left and right.

 _They_ still haven’t talked about it. 

Although she stayed in his tent overnight because it started raining heavily while they were… cuddling. God, it feels weird to even _think_ about it. While she know that she should’ve never brought the flower to his tent, that she could’ve easily achieved the release on her own, she can’t bring herself to regret what happened.

Tonight, her shift has been longer than usual, so once the stars come out from their hiding she’s cleaning the table with antiseptic. Whenever her eyes fall on her fingernails, she keeps imagining that there’s still blood caking them, but she’s washed it off hours ago and yet they’re trembling slightly. 

 _Do not cry._  

Just as she takes a sharp inhale of metallic air, she hears footsteps behind her. Twisting her head, Clarke notices Bellamy all shadowed at the entrance to the bay, and her breath hitches in her throat of its own accord. “I’m… I’m cleaning up now. I’ll be out in five minutes.”

“Do you have time for one more patient?” he asks, his voice a little strained. At first she can’t figure out why, but then he continues, “I was carrying wood on my back when some of it slipped from the net, and it burns like hell.”

Now that he’s stepped towards her, Clarke grabs his wrist to pull him in closer. The atmosphere between them thickens right away, but she doesn’t allow herself to dwell on it. Instead, she tells him to take off his shirt and sit down so that she can examine the injury properly: His right shoulder is covered in scratches; there are a few purple bruises blooming as well, and though it doesn’t look serious it must really hurt. 

Otherwise he wouldn’t have come here.

“Well, I could offer you some of the ointment, but you don’t believe in it so the _placebo_ won’t work,” she teases, and she can almost _hear_ him smirk even though she’s standing behind him. Dipping some bandages into a bowl of cool water, Clarke bites her lower lip in concentration. “This will sting a little,” is her brief warning before she places them on some of the scratches, those that look the most painful. 

Bellamy sucks in a sharp breath but doesn’t complain.

“Thankfully, they’re not deep or bloodied enough that I need to clean them with alcohol...” she says, trailing her eyes over his back, which seems slumped from exhaustion. After noticing this, Clarke steps in front of him and looks at him as she continues, “You’ve been working all day again, haven’t you? You need to give yourself a break sometimes, Bellamy.”

Then, without thinking, she places her hand on his knee, which draws his attention for a moment. “I don’t know how to. I’ve worked my entire life, and now there’s even more reason to. We need to survive, Clarke.”

“I _know_ , but you’ll hurt yourself.” 

To her surprise, these words make him wrap a strong arm around her waist to pull her closer until she’s standing in between his legs and their foreheads are resting against one another. “You don’t have to worry about me, Princess.” 

“I don’t? Without you, I—“ she cuts herself off, desperation and determination ripping through her, blending to form a force that causes her to fumble with his belt buckle. Most likely without caring about the potential consequences that it could have, Bellamy lifts his hips a little off the table to make it easier for her to drag his pants down. 

Just like she’d done the first time, she lefts her hand disappear out of sight below the waistband of his boxers and grabs him; this time his cock is still soft but it twitches a little under her touch. Gazing into his dark, slightly widened eyes, Clarke starts to stroke him leisurely. He moans right before he kisses her, cupping the side of her face and teasing her lower lip with his tongue. 

Although she would never admit it, feeling him grow hard in her hand is the hottest thing imaginable, and she has to fight the urge to squeeze her thighs together through the intense desire. _No mystery flower needed._

Once his boxers are hanging around his ankles to, his cock freed and exposed to her for the second time, Clarke bats her eyelids and sucks her lower lip between her teeth in effort to get him riled up. If the guttural groan that emerges from his throat is any indication, it works.

Still, he places his hands on her shoulders as she drops to her knees. “You really don’t have to do this.”

Clarke smirks. “Good to know,” she deadpans while smearing the bit of pre-cum lingering at the tip of him with her thumb, which makes him mutter a low curse. Determined to hear it again, she wastes no more time, taking him into her mouth. Because she’s done it before, it’s not intimidating. In fact, it’s invigorating; she gets to show what she’s made of. 

He feels so heavy on her tongue, the taste of earth coming back to strike her. For some reason, it strengthens her confidence, and she takes more of him, almost his entire length. Bellamy sputters out a blasphemous curse, tugging at her hair.

“ _Holy shit,_ Clarke. Be careful. Take it easy.”

Drawing back, she quirks up an eyebrow. “You’ve got advice for me?”

Bellamy runs a palm across his face, erupting in warm chuckles. Then he brushes his thumb along her jawline, gazing at her with gentle eyes. “Just ease into it, okay? You’re doing great.”

When Clarke puts her mouth back on him, she decides to take his words to heart. Instead of struggling to take all of him at once, she keeps the sucks languid while she works at the rest of him with her hand. Within a couple minutes, Bellamy’s fallen completely silent; he can’t even moan or groan anymore, but his breathing is ragged and hitches as though he’s struggling for air. 

 _He’s holding himself back._  

“Clarke, I’m gonna…”

Of course, he expects her to pull back before his release, but she doesn’t. “ _God,_ ” he moans, his thighs quivering slightly under her fingertips. When he opens his eyes after half a minute of pure bliss, Clarke smirks at him.

“Did you just…?”

As she nods, his gaze darkens and he pulls her in again to press his mouth to hers. The kiss is messy and unapologetic, causing a fire to ignite in her lower belly. Drawing back, Clarke grins against his mouth before telling him, “Take care of your shoulder.”

Then she turns to walk out, but he grabs her hand, preventing her from it. Twisting her head back towards him, Clarke sees that the signature smirk has returned to his face. “Do me a favor, Princess… When you put your hand between your legs tonight, think of me.”

Her mouth goes dry, and she has to battle the urge to bite her lower lip as she replies, “Maybe I will.”

 

* * *

 

In the privacy of her own tent, Clarke tries to dream herself away, focusing on the softness of the furs against her exposed skin. But Bellamy’s words keep sticking in her brain. She’s stripped down to her shirt because even though the weather has become milder, her tent is still blazing from the being in direct sunlight all day.

Falling asleep is as difficult as always. Clarke takes a deep breath in effort to calm herself down, but her long day in medical keeps weighing on her. _Damn. He was right._

She needs to get off.

Not bothering to get herself worked up, she slips her hand past the waistband of her panties and cups her mound. At first, she tries to think of anything _but_ him, and yet he keeps finding new pathways into her mind; the most intense aspect of him is his voice. Whenever he speaks to her in that dark, gruff tone it’s as if the words seep into her skin.

His voice echoes through her ears, and she thumbs at her clit in pure need; she can reconstruct the feeling of his hot breath by closing her eyes and imagining it, but she quickly realizes that it’s not nearly as effective as the real deal. To make matters worse, her fingers are a lot slimmer than his, so she can’t fool herself into believing that he’s the one who’s touching her.

Knowing that this won’t work, Clarke takes a different route. Instead of pretending that she’s with him, she does something safer, recalling the taste of him, the feeling of him in her hand and the ungodly sounds that she caused him to make. Though wetness pools between her thighs as she crooks her fingers, the pleasure doesn’t intensify.

 _Shit, what’s even happening?_ She’s always been able to get herself off. With a frustrated groan, she stops touching herself and rolls onto her side, intending to try to fall asleep, but her eyes fixate on the tent flap dancing slowly in the wind.

And then she thinks, _fuck it._

After pulling on her pants, Clarke steps into the night and crosses the camp, not minding the calm drizzle; it feels soothing against her skin. Without dwelling on how rude it actually is to simply barge into his tent without an explanation or good reason, she pushes the tent flap aside. 

To her surprise, he’s not asleep either. “Clarke?” 

“I need it, but I—I can’t,” she blurts out, causing his brow to furrow. Then he pushes the furs aside and moves out of the makeshift bed. “I can’t get there,” is what she manages, ignoring the burn in her cheeks.

_God, this is so embarrassing._

“Hey, hey,” once again, he cups her cheek. Even though she has no idea when that became something he _does,_ she’s not about to complain, as the feeling of his touch is more soothing than she’d like to admit. “That’s normal. Especially when you’re exhausted… Do you want me to help?” 

_Why does he think she came here?_

“Please, Bellamy.”

Smiling, he pulls the hair tie loose, freeing her wavy, golden hair so that it falls around her face. She leans forward, rising to her tiptoes to kiss him, and he responds by deepening it right away. In the matter of a couple minutes, he has removed all her clothes, but instead of letting her stand there, surrounded by the chilly night air he pulls her down into the furs with him, which are already so wonderfully warm.

Pressing his lips to her shoulders, adorning them with soft kisses, Bellamy lets his hand wander along the length of her stomach to settle between her thighs. At the moment his finger grazes her slit, she gasps, and he swallows the sound by pressing his mouth to hers. “But you’re so wet,” he points out. “Did you get impatient?” 

Clarke is tempted to kick at him for teasing her right now. “Maybe. Whatever.”

“ _Whatever,_ ” Bellamy parrots, and she would’ve rolled her eyes at him had he not at that exact moment slipped two long fingers into her. To muffle a strangled moan, Clarke mouths at his broad shoulder, squirming through the intense pleasure that just shot through her body. He fucks her slowly with his fingers, grazing her clit from time to time; it makes her shudder with need, but he obviously has no intention of rushing this.

Wanting _more,_ Clarke hikes her leg up on his hip, causing him to groan in surprise. Now that the angle has been changed, his fingers manage to hit a different spot inside her. It nearly knocks all the breath from her lungs. “Kiss me,” she rasps, and he does, burying his free hand on her hair. 

That’s another thing he seems to be fond of.

Finally, he begins to rub her clit in earnest, and she has to anchor herself by holding onto his back. To support her neck, Bellamy cradles the back of her head as soon as her head falls onto his shoulder.

“Please, please, please—“ she whines just before another high-pitched gasp tumbles from her lips and onto his collarbone. Giving into her unspoken demand, Bellamy speeds up, his fingers fucking her faster and harder.

 _“Oh god, Bellamy_ ,” Clarke cries out as she falls over the edge, the powerful orgasm surging through her like a tidal wave. While she rides the high, he eats her out for a few minutes until she’s whimpering from overstimulation.

For the second time, she falls asleep in his tent, but it feels strangely right.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave comments and kudos to make my day <3


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